The Moments

I started out trying to vent. I just deleted a few hundred words about my inability to fall asleep and my frustrations about missing classes I am, for once, actually trying to attend. But that is not what I really want to say. What I want to explain is why...

My chronic headaches aren't about the pain reverberating throughout my skull. My headaches stopped being about that pain almost six years ago. It was around the time the Beltway snipers were finally arrested. Martha Stewart had yet to be indicted and Michael Jackson had yet to be arrested on child molestation charges. Kobe and Shaq still pretended to like each other. It was a long time ago. I was fourteen and about two months into living with the pain when I first realized the real toll my headaches exacted.

The real toll is in the thousands of moments like this one. The moments that are all unique but I have lived them all before and I know them far too well. These moments are my undesired companions in this journey and I despise every familiar introduction. They are the moments when I am curled up in bed unable to sleep and unable to stop my mind from racing along at a million miles an hour. They are the moments when I desperately want to see people...to talk to people...to get out and do things...only to find myself exhausted and in too much pain within ten minutes while looking at three more hours of faking and posturing my way through social interaction. They are the moments when I sit down at the dinner table after a bad day and my bad mood seeps into everyone around the table. My mom becomes noticeably more tense and irritated. My dad seems twenty years older and my sister has no idea what to do with herself other than tiptoe through the brief snippets of conversation. They are the moments when I have to call a friend to tell them I can't spend time with them because I don't feel well and the moments after the seemingly obligatory "I'm sorry. Feel better." If only it were that easy. They are the moments when I start to vomit from the pain when trying to push myself through some athletic activity when not feeling well and the moments when I get frustrated after a poor performance and yearn for the opportunity to see what I could have done with a healthy past or even present (because few things bother me as much my missed athletic opportunities). The moments are numerous but they are all recognizable because they are all the moments when I feel alone.

I don't mean to imply that the root of most of my problems lies anywhere other than with the pounding in my head. That is the reason for all of those moments. But the physical pain pales in comparison to the emotional, spiritual and mental pain. I can function and accomplish things in fairly severe physical pain...but my psyche takes the brunt of the consequences of all of that forced effort. True pain is not having daily headaches, even those of the incapacitating variety. The true pain in that situation can be found in the isolation of the sufferer once cut off from friends and family. It can be found in the never-ending emotional struggle for contentment and happiness. True pain cannot be found in a broken arm or a torn ACL but it can be found in broken hearts and worn-out minds. True pain is the type of pain that can drive a person insane because it creates a constant struggle within one's self. A struggle that no one else can see and a struggle that you cannot take the initiative in because that is not the nature of true pain. Some may tell you that the best strategy is to embrace the pain and use that as motivation to harden your resolve and create a new strength inside of you. True pain embraces you. And there is no way around it. You can only do your best to remain standing amidst the tidal waves of lonlieness, frustration, anger, and sadness and hope your efforts are enough.

So my chronic headaches aren't about the pain reverberating throughout my skull. My headaches turned into true pain rather quickly as I was not nearly mature enough at fourteen to handle any situation like the one that unfolded. The fifth Harry Potter book was nearly a year away from being released. Shrek won the Oscar for 'Best Animated Feature Film.' The Patriots had only won one Super Bowl. It was a long time ago. It took about two months for me to realize the moments in life that made fighting to get through to the next day worth it.

These moments stay with you long after they are gone. These moments give you hope in times of despair. They are the moments when your English class claps when you walk into school for the first time in months. They are the moments when your friends come to visit your house because they know you haven't seen anyone in a couple weeks due to continual absences from school. They are the moments when people you barely know inform you that they have been praying for you every night for the past two years and will continue to do so. They are the moments when your dad tears up telling you how proud he is of you. And how it means something because he was around for all the hard work and tough times. They are the moments when you are sitting in the hallway during the last period of the last day before Winter Break. When you are on your eighth test of the day and looking like...well like I don't know what. When a friend, not even a good friend, walks by on the way to her locker, looks over, sees you and kisses you on the cheek and says "Merry Christmas, Addy." They are the moments when you are awakened from a phone call during lunch period and a friend is on the other end of the line asking how you were simply because you were not in school today. Even though this happened regularly the calls still came. They are the moments when a person first finds out about you being sick and they ask questions and try to come up with answers or possible solutions to your problems. It doesn't matter that they don't necessarily know what they are talking about. It matters that they care. Because these are the moments when you remember that even though everyone has their own problems there are always people out there who care. Even if they can never understand what everything means they are always there. And you are not alone.

This last paragraph probably makes this the most optimistic thing I have ever written about being sick. I hope I am not going soft knowing that at least three people will read this. I would be terribly saddened by that turn of events...though I would be the first one to appreciate the irony of that situation. So obviously there is an upside for every situation? Was that the conclusion drawn here? Soft like butter.

"I have known many good people who did not believe in God. But I have never known a human being who was good who did not believe in people." ~John Lovejoy Ellliott